


Claw Your Way Back

by croissantkatie



Category: Bandom, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance
Genre: Bandom Reverse Big Bang Challenge 2012, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-12
Updated: 2012-04-12
Packaged: 2017-11-03 12:56:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/381569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/croissantkatie/pseuds/croissantkatie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They keep saying that he doesn't belong here but Gerard's still alive, they've helped keep him alive this long. That's got to mean something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Claw Your Way Back

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by [solarbaby614](http://archiveofourown.org/users/solarbaby614/pseuds/solarbaby614)'s amazing art for bandomreversebb. It's amazing, go check it out [here](http://solarbaby614.livejournal.com/100540.html#cutid1) (on lj) or [here](http://solarbaby614.dreamwidth.org/106217.html) (on dw)! Also, thank you so much to [quintenttsy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/quintenttsy/pseuds/quintenttsy) for being a fabulous beta, brain storming partner, sorting out my tenses and being all around amazing.

Gerard lost any sense of time a long time ago. It’s got lighter and darker a few times since he arrived in the desert but night isn’t quite the same here. It gets pitch black but there are these bright flashes of colour all around, almost like flares. He started heading towards one a while ago in the hopes that there would be someone else there but he never found anyone. It was always too far away.

And the sky is lit up sometimes by something else entirely. It’s almost like the northern lights, really, except they’re in a desert and the lights are neon. Bright swirls of pink and yellow and lime green painting the sky. It’s stunning and Gerard spent a whole night lying on his back, staring up at the sky. He would have stayed there longer but the temperature dived and he needed to move.

The idea that places which are burning hot in the day but freezing cold at night had always confused him, and he still doesn’t get it but he knows for sure that it happens now. He’s experienced it and it made him incredibly thankful that he hadn’t ditched his jacket that first day in the heat, instead just taking it off and carrying it. Gerard needed it at night, especially given how disastrous his attempt to make a fire was the first night. He’d managed to find fuel all right, but setting it alight had posed more of a problem.

By the time he stumbles across other people, Gerard’s not entirely sure he isn’t hallucinating. They appear to be having some kind of shoot off, like in an old western or something, except with lasers instead of guns with bullets. When the first person hits the ground though, a black scorch mark on their otherwise immaculate white suit, Gerard suddenly realises that this is very, very real.

“Stop,” he yells, leaping between the two groups and nearly tripping over his own feet in the process. “You need to stop! You’re killing people. Think of their families. Violence is not the answer!”

The ones wearing brightly coloured clothing stop and stare at him with something akin to disbelief. One of them mutters something to the guy next to him, something which contains a fair few swear words and something along the lines of “someone got the wrong pill dose prescribed.” Gerard narrows his eyes, confused

The ones in white don’t seem all that interested in Gerard and just continue shooting. The one with the curly hair just sighs and fires back at them, nearly hitting one of Gerard’s arms in the process. He’s waving them expansively as he carries on talking, going on about how killing is wrong and they have feelings. This is important, and they’re just ignoring him.

The one with the Halloween mask on mutters to himself again, before whacking Gerard around the back of the head, completely fed up with this turn of events. They actually had a plan for this encounter and now it’s completely shot to pieces.

Gerard crumples to the floor, unconscious, and the fight continues around his fallen body.

When Gerard comes round, he’s not lying on sand any more. Instead, he’s lying on something which feels horribly like concrete, hard and rough against his back. He can hear voices but they sound fuzzy and distant. They’re not making any sense, either. He catches something about “dracs” but that doesn’t make sense because there’s only one of Dracula. Well, different there are interpretations but still. There’s also mention of drugs of some kind which is patently ridiculous because Gerard knows he’s not on anything. He thinks he would be offended if he could work up the energy to do more than just lie there.

Then there’s a voice over the others, louder and clearer, saying, “He’s staying, he’d only end up dead out there.”  
Gerard relaxes slightly, relieved that he won’t have to go back out into the heat. It’s cooler wherever he is. He doesn’t get to appreciate it for very long though as he drifts back into unconsciousness.

\---

“You’re not going out, you’re staying right here.”

It grates on him, the cocky way Party Poison says it. Gerard doesn’t need to do as anyone told him any more, that’s for sure. Party keeps ordering him around, telling him where he can and cannot go, dictating every minute detail of his life. It makes Gerard feel like a rebellious teenager again.

He wants to fight back in the most petulant way possible but he can’t find a way to do it. It isn’t as if there’s space he can go and sulk out here. And anyway, Gerard likes to think that he’s matured somewhat since his teenage years. He can act like an adult; he can talk about his problems and find solutions to them. Unfortunately for him, Party isn’t particularly keen on that course of action.

There’s a part of Gerard which just doesn’t like authority. It makes his skin itch with the constant urge to lash out. Gerard very rarely does though. He fights back with words and deliberate provocation but he doesn’t do it through violence. That rankles him, and it’s one of the things about Party which grate on him. His first response is to shoot them down, take the enemy out and Gerard just doesn’t get that. How will they ever change anyone’s minds if they’re dead?

Party always insists there’s nothing left inside them worth changing. Gerard points out that unless they try, they won’t know. Party just laughed in his face at that, though, and Gerard doesn’t know why. He’s not entirely sure he wants to.

“It’s not like there’s anything going on right now!” snaps Gerard, losing it briefly and forgetting to try and keep his voice even. “What’s going to happen if I stand outside for a bit?” That in itself is a slightly weird notion for Gerard. Normally he prefers the indoors but there’s something about the desert which he wants to be a part of. Even if it meant risking sunburn.

“Yeah, like fuck you’d know what to do if some dracs turned up. And, sweet cheeks, even if someone chill rolls by, they wouldn’t believe for a second you’re one of us. You look like someone from Better Living trying to pass as one of us,” Party spits, words streaming out. He barely pauses for breath.

“Well if you’d just show me what to do instead of lecturing me on all the ways it could go wrong, I might stand a chance,” says Gerard, attempting to sound reasonable.

“No,” Party flat-out refuses. “You’re not one of us and I’m not gonna show you how to be.”

\---

“We’re going out. You stay here,” orders Party as he shrugs into his jacket. Gerard wants to yell back, demand to know why he can’t leave the diner. He doesn’t, though. He wants to show Party that he’s above all that. He is an adult and he’s damn well going to act like it, even if Party Poison doesn’t seem able to manage it.

Gerard feels penned in. There’s so much space outside and he can’t get out into it. He’s slowly going stir-crazy with the need to get out. There’s a difference between holing away by himself for a few days and being stuck inside on someone else’s orders. The only real difference is that he doesn’t want to be stuck inside, but that’s enough.

Gerard thinks that out of everyone he’s met here, he likes Show Pony and the girl best. The girl because she’s normal, or at least as normal as you can, being raised out in the wilderness. He likes Show Pony because he’s not normal. He’s different, but above all else he is himself. Pony doesn’t pretend to be anyone he’s not and that’s something Gerard admires. His mere presence is two fingers up to the establishment.

It helps that Pony seems to have accepted Gerard for who he is, as well. Whereas the Killjoys keep insisting that he needs to adapt, Show Pony just told him to keep on rolling on his own tracks. It took Gerard a little while to figure out what Pony meant by that, but he think he’s got it now.

He should just carry on being himself. He doesn’t have to change for anyone.

\---

Party grabs him by the t-shirt, yanks him in close. “You don’t get to go anywhere, got it?” he spits through gritted teeth. His eyes are fierce and Gerard can barely see anything besides Party Poison, the rest of the world blocked out by his hair whipping around in the wind. Gerard can barely see anything either, his own hair blowing all over the place, but he’s at least trying to get it to stay out of the way. Party Poison doesn’t seem to care.

He releases Gerard’s shirt with a look of disdain on his face, as if it’s personally offended him. Gerard suspects it might be because his shirt is actually something approaching clean. Party pushes him back harder, even though there’s nowhere for Gerard to go. Although it’s quite possible that all Party wanted to do was hurt him.

He steps away and spins round, stalking off, yelling out to Jet Star as he goes about the Trans Am. There’s an annoying swagger to Party’s walk and Gerard’s eyes are always drawn to it because of that fucking thigh holster. Each time he tries to tear his eyes away as quickly as he can but he knows that it’s taking him longer every time now. He just can’t quite seem to look away.

The frustrating thing is that Party knows. It’s obvious from the smirk which never seems to leave his face but which just gets more or less pronounced depending on the situation.

Gerard just wants to wipe that expression off his face. Or steal it for himself, he’s not sure which.

\---

There’s not enough air here. It’s too thin, oxygen pushed out by something else. It makes Gerard’s head feel fuzzy but no one else seems to notice it. He asked Jet Star about it once but he just said that he couldn’t remember it being any different, that they were probably used to it. He’d assured Gerard that he’d adjust too but he’s not so sure. He’s not entirely sure he wants to adjust. Being able to breathe the air here without any problem suggests a level of permanence to this he’s not entirely sure he wants. There’s too much back home to miss.

Gerard tries not to think about it too much because it hurts. He feels like he’s been ripped apart.  
There are chunks of him missing, gaps left by Mikey and Frank and Ray and it fucking sucks. There are people here who could fill in those spaces but he doesn’t want them to. He doesn’t want to let go of the people he loves from back home, at least not yet. Gerard doesn’t want to think that he’ll never see any of them again. He chants over and over in his head that it’s not the end; it’s not a permanent goodbye. All it is, all this is ever going to be, is a brief separation. It’s not permanent.

At least that’s what Gerard tells himself because if he doesn’t he’ll lose it. And he can’t lose himself along with everyone else. The problem is, though, that there are new parts here which could replace the bits which are missing and, somehow, that’s even scarier.

\---

Party’s kisses are always fierce and hard and at first Gerard wasn’t sure if he meant them in any nice way at all. The problem is that Party doesn’t know how to use anything as something other than a weapon. Everything he ever does is a way for him to lash out against the world, a pre-emptive strike before they can get to him. It makes Gerard sad that Party feels the need to be that way even when kissing him. And it stings a bit, like Party still doesn’t trust him, like he’s still waiting for Gerard to turn against him and be someone other than who he said he was.

As time has passed, though, things have changed. Tiny details, but changes nonetheless. Party’s kisses haven’t got any less ferocious but his eyes are softer when he bites at Gerard’s mouth. He doesn’t always push Gerard back against the wall, pulling his t-shirt up so that the bare brick scratches his skin. Sometimes, now, Party lets Gerard have control for a little while, lets himself be pushed against the wall instead.

However, Party only ever deigns to be pushed up against the one part of the wall which is still covered by plaster. Gerard never would have guessed that the fussier of the pair of them would be the one who had no access to running water and existed mostly on a diet of dog food. Party had tried to brush it off, the one time Gerard had attempted to bring it up, by claiming that he couldn’t risk getting infected cuts. Gerard didn’t buy a word of it.

Gerard wishes he had a name, a proper name, but he’s trying to accept that where he’s from, Party Poison is a perfectly acceptable for someone. He’s trying to be open-minded and accepting about the whole thing but that doesn’t stop Party’s name feeling strange on his tongue. Gerard hopes that the feeling will pass. He doesn’t like something, anything, really, about Party being alien to him.

Gerard just feels resigned about the whole thing now. It’s like there’s nothing he can do, nothing he can say, to change anything or to make anything better. He doesn’t even mind if things aren’t better any more. He just wants things to be different. If things were different he might at least have some hope of trying to fix things.

\---

There are worlds drifting through the universe like dust particles in air. In some ways, they’re incredibly close to each other but at the same time they’re impossibly far away. It’s possible to be more than one thing at a time, after all. You just have to know how. Most people, though, don’t. But who can blame them? The world is a barrage of information flooding your senses. It’s hard to pay attention to something which doesn’t register on that level.

Accidents happen all the time. Cars crash into each other, a cyclist gets knocked down, and worlds brush against each other. People end up in a different world, at once for too long and for not long enough. Time drags by and passes in the blink of an eye. No one noticed when Lucy went through the wardrobe, no one notices when Gerard goes to the desert. Both things are ridiculous and impossible but one happened and one was merely fiction.

But which one was real and which one was a story?

\---

“You miss them,” Fun Ghoul states, voice quiet but firm. “And you think we don’t get it because we’ve got each other. You couldn’t be more fucking wrong. We haven’t always had each other. Stop wallowing in your own misery. You’ve got to move the fuck on, sunshine. We’ve all loved and lost, you ain’t no special tumbleweed.”

He casts a disparaging look at where Gerard is sitting before turning on his heel and going outside.

Gerard looks down, brings his knees up to his face and tries not to flinch at Ghoul’s words. He can’t move on because he knows that, somehow, he can get back to them. He hasn’t figured out how yet, but he’s going to. He has to. There aren’t any other options.

\---

“Stop pretending,” hisses Gerard, his cheek squashed against the wall. “You don’t hate me, not really.”

“You don’t know what I think,” spits Party, digging his hand more firmly into Gerard’s jaw. “Stop acting like you do.”

“I can make a pretty good guess,” Gerard retorts, wrenching his head free and pressing his mouth firmly against Party’s own. Party attempts to protest but the words get swallowed by Gerard. It’s painful more than anything else but it’s still good. More teeth than Gerard prefers but he’s fairly flexible with what he likes. Above all else he likes Party, however much he hates that fact.

“Fuck you,” Party spits out when he finally wrenches his mouth away.

“Well, we should probably talk about that first. Y’know, make sure we’re both on the same page and all.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Party insists before diving back in to kiss Gerard.

\---

The first time Gerard goes outside by himself, he simply spends time staring at the letter box. It’s beautiful and it makes him feel better, somehow. The letters never get collected, no one really comes out here, but it’s a place to centre your hope around. He wants to write a letter so that he can have some hope too but he doesn’t have anything to write with and he doesn’t want to ask. Last time he’d so much as mentioned missing something from back home he’d been shot down immediately with the Killjoys telling that he’d better get used to it and that here, you don’t get much and they’ve got even less.

Gerard tries not to think about that, though. He just pretends that he’s sent off something to Mikey and that letters crossing worlds isn’t hard so long as you’ve got hope.

The box is the first place Gerard has seen a drawing of a giant eye and not thought of things like Big Brother and the eye of Sauron. It doesn’t seem scary and all-seeing and all-knowing. Instead, it’s kind of reassuring. It feels like there’s someone watching over them, like somewhere out there, there might actually be someone who cares about their fate. It’s a nice feeling and one which Gerard holds on to for as long as he can once he’s forced back inside by Jet Star coming out and calling for him.

\---

Gerard stands in the doorway at the front of the diner, peering at Kobra Kid. It’s hard to see him because of the angle the sun is at but Gerard can more or less make him out. He tilts his head to the side, confused.

“I’m sorry, I know I’m not an expert or anything, but that is not kung fu or whatever that’s supposed to be.”

Kobra stops, planting both feet firmly on the ground and turning to stare back at Gerard. “I don’t care what it’s called, it works.” And Gerard supposes he can’t really argue with that.

\---

“Gerard,” Kobra says and even though there’s very little inflection to the word, Gerard still knows that this conversation is not going to be good. He just stares at Kobra, waiting for him to continue because he hasn’t got a hope in hell of figuring out what Kobra might want to talk about. “Party. You and Party.” Kobra stops and just looks at Gerard, one eyebrow raised marginally.

Gerard barely registers what Kobra actually said, though, because he’s too busy trying to decipher Kobra’s expression. It hurts because he can’t figure out what it means. It’s so similar to Mikey and yet so different. If it were Mikey, Gerard would know exactly what he was trying to say. As it is, Gerard can guess but he’s fairly sure he would be wrong. He doesn’t feel able to risk being wrong with Kobra right now.

Kobra sighs slightly, sounding almost frustrated that he needs to explain in greater detail. “Don’t fuck him up,” he says in the end, and Gerard’s eyes bug out.

“Sorry, what? How the fuck could I screw him over? It’s not like he cares about anything, least of all me.”

“He does care. He doesn’t show it, but he does,” Kobra adds, voice taking on a hint of defensiveness.

“Doesn’t show it?” snaps Gerard. “You don’t show emotion, he’s actively hostile. That’s not caring.”

“He cares inside,” Kobra goes on, ignoring the fact that Gerard is getting progressively more agitated. Kobra falls silent and stares at Gerard, waiting for some kind of reaction. All he gets is an eye-roll. “It’s just a persona,” he says slowly, trying to be patient and explain but still sounding rather frustrated through the monotone. Gerard snorts but Kobra ignores it, ploughing on regardless. “Surely you get that; you’re an artist and shit.”

Gerard actually stops and thinks about it then. He can kind of see how, maybe, Party’s harsh exterior is a defence against the world. Gerard gets that. He’s hidden behind an image of someone he’s not before. It kind of makes sense, but he can’t quite get his head round how Party can be like that all the time and never let the mask drop.

“Yeah, I think I’ve got it now,” Gerard says, rather uncertainly. “It doesn’t quite make sense, but I think I’m getting there. Maybe.”

“Chill Gee, just give it time, y’know?” Kobra tells him, reaching out to pat Gerard rather awkwardly on the shoulder.

Gerard freezes, turning his head to stare at Kobra. “Why did you call me Gee?”

“Why not? Every zone runner needs a name, I thought it would do for now,” Kobra explains, giving a small one-shouldered shrug. Gerard frowns, looking down at his feet, tugging at the bottom of his t-shirt. “What?” Kobra asks, confused by Gerard’s reaction.

“I just miss them. I miss them so much,” Gerard admits, hunching further in on himself. Kobra leans forward slightly, lowering his eyebrows, and apparently that’s enough incentive for Gerard to start talking. Everything comes tumbling out.

“My brother, Mikey, he calls me Gee. He’s always called me Gee. And Frank and Ray do too, sometimes. We’re a family and we always had each others’ backs and I miss them so much. It hurts and sometimes I can forget, all the way out here in the desert, but other times I can’t. It hurts and I haven’t got anyone out here and I just miss them.”

“Okay, I get that,” Kobra responds after a moment’s pause. “I’ve got people I miss too.”

“But you’ve got Jet and Ghoul and Party and everyone!” Gerard says, practically exploding.

“So do you,” Kobra tells him, staring at Gerard in a vaguely confused manner.

Gerard stops and thinks about it then. He thinks about how Jet’s always got his back whenever he gets caught up in something, however much they all try and keep him out of things. Jet covers everyone’s backs in a crisis. There’s also the fact that Grace is just as willing to hug him as any of the guys, even though she’s incredibly distrustful of strangers. Ghoul teases him all the time and takes the piss out of pretty much everything Gerard does. The thing is, Ghoul does it in that particular way of his which means he cares, because he does it to all the others too.

Then there’s Party, and if what Kobra says is true, he cares about Gerard too. And the mere fact that they’re having this conversation seems to indicate that Kobra cares as well. It’s a pretty strange thought for Gerard. They might all display their affection in ways which are incredibly unclear, but they do care.

“Oh,” says Gerard softly, stunned. Kobra just pats him on the arm again and smiles a bit.

“Come on, Jet said he was going to try something new with the power pupp.”

\---

In the end he has to leave; he can’t take it any more. He doesn’t feel like he’s enough there, even though all he’s tried to be is himself. That doesn’t seem to have worked, though. Gerard hates that. For years he’s talked about being true to yourself and he’s tried to do that as much as possible, but now... now it’s as if he isn’t good enough and it makes him mad.

In the end, he drags himself away. It hurts because there had been something there. Something between him and Party. He tries not to think about that, though, because it stings.

“Get back here!” yells Party, screaming his lungs out. Gerard doesn’t turn and look back, not even when Party’s yelling gets more determined. If he looks back, he’ll never leave. And it isn’t as if Party makes any attempt to follow him. If he had, Gerard might have reconsidered his decision. As it is, he keeps on walking and focuses on where he’s putting his feet.

Gerard only really has one chance to go back, back to his own world with the life he is used to. He’s used to the life he has now, life out in the desert with the Killjoys. It’s harder, though, out here, and he misses the way things used to be, back at home, with an almost physical pang in his chest.

He has to take the opportunity to leave when it presents itself. He can’t stay, no matter how loudly part of him is screaming that he should. That part is almost loud enough to drown out Party’s terse commands telling him he must stay. It’s all lost, though, under the torrent of thoughts about family and home and being somewhere safe.

Gerard never thought he would long for somewhere safe as much as he longs for it now.

Gerard has to leave and get out of that place for good. He can’t go far; he’s got nowhere to go. He wanders the desert for days after he leaves, searching for a way to get back home. He hasn’t found it though, whatever it is he’s supposed to be looking for. Gerard has just been hoping that he’ll know it when he sees it.

It’s remarkable, really, how long he’s able to keep going. Kobra supplied him with some food and Jet Star taught him some tricks to survive, claiming he didn’t want more people to die than had to.

All in all, it’s longer than Gerard thought he would manage by the time that Party shows up.

Party seems to have fallen to pieces since Gerard last saw him. It’s not all that noticeable but it is most definitely there. The leather of his gun holster digging into his leg, buckled up too tightly. The fact that he’s not flipping his hair out of his face when the wind blows it in his eyes. The way his swagger seems forced, sharp hip movements instead of one fluid motion. It makes Gerard flinch because he knows that it’s his doing. He’s the only one who’s gotten under Party’s skin in a long time.

The guilt is like a punch to the gut. He pushes it down, tries not to think about it. He can’t let the guilt over what has happened to Party destroy him. That’s not who he is. He can’t put everyone else before himself, not even Party, however much he wants to.

Party doesn’t say anything whilst he’s with Gerard, just drops a ratty old bag on the ground, gives Gerard a long hard look before turning on his heel to leave. Gerard can’t admit it to himself but he watches him leave until he can barely make Party out through the glare of the sun.

\---

It’s when he’s almost run out of the additional supplies which Party left him when he sees it. It looks like a mirage or a heat haze more than anything else, a slight patch of fuzziness in the air forming a wonky arch. Gerard doesn’t hesitate, he can’t. If he stops now he won’t go because he’ll remember that he’s got things he could stay for here now as well, not just things he can return to back there. He folds the bag up, places it gently at the base of a Joshua tree and starts to walk towards the arch.

There’s this odd moment, when Gerard has a foot in each world, when he can hear everything. And everything sounds like a song and a battle cry and a call to arms and an anthem. He pauses, wanting to savour it, but he as soon as he pays attention to it, it drifts further away. He can’t catch hold of it, though. To do that he’d have to step away, take his feet out of both worlds. And that thought is even more terrifying than missing people in one world when he’s in another. So he just cherishes it whilst he can, hopes that some of it will stay with him, and steps back home.

\---

The thing is that once worlds have touched, they’re more likely to touch again. It’s that first contact which is difficult; after that, it’s considerably easier. They don’t know that, though. How could they? All they know is dust and music.

So they’re both taken by surprise by the slight frisson in the air, the tingling of particles making way for ones which weren’t there a moment before. It’s lucky, really that they don’t both step through, missing each other. But they’re not the same person so they react in different ways. Whilst Gerard stands there in shock, staring and trying to figure out how on earth (or not necessarily on Earth) this happened, Party Poison grabs what he needs and starts walking.

The colours look less vivid here without the sharp glare from the desert sand. Out there Party’s hair had been like a beacon, fiercely bright, a symbol of resistance. Back here, though, in Gerard’s world, it looks slightly faded and too stark. The red looks cartoonish, like someone let a child loose on his hair with a permanent marker.

Gerard looked washed out in Party’s world. He didn’t fit. Everything was stark white or neon colours and that is just something he is not. He prefers shadows and the comfort of black. He stuck out like a sore thumb. He looked pallid and ill, not bright and vibrant and alive like the others.

But there’s colour in his world too and it’s staying here. Or at least, that’s what Party following him back to this world, dragging along his fellow brothers in arms, suggests. Mostly though, it Party’s firm grip around Gerard’s waist which convinces him.


End file.
